come and get your love
by you-idjits
Summary: Day one at Kansas University. Dean's nervous as hell, because he's no good at accepting change, because college is new and different. And then there's his roommate, Castiel. Who's deaf. That's new, and different, but somehow it's okay. (Deaf and attractive. Great.)


Okay, Dean's nervous.

This is new. This is new and different and Dean isn't very good with change. He likes to think of himself as an easy-going guy, but this… This is too much.

Here he is, on day one at Kansas U, hovering awkwardly in the hallway of a freshman dorm. He doesn't know what he's doing here, nonetheless what he's doing with his future. College isn't somewhere he ever could have pictured himself a year ago. But here he is.

Room 206, right? That's what the housing assignment said. And here it is, the number on the door gold and worn.

He drops his duffel, fumbles for the little key. Shoves the door open with a shoulder. He's hoping the room is empty, to give him time to adjust, to settle in-

Oh- _oh_. Not empty. Dean stifles a groan, tosses his bag on the bed. "Hey, you must be, uh-" he glances at the paper in his hand, "Castiel? My name's Dean."

The dude reading a book at the desk, who must be his new roommate, doesn't respond. Dean feels his hackles go up, muscles tightening. This is not going well so far. "Uh, Castiel?"

Nothing.

He reaches forward, hesitates, then lays a heavy hand on the guy's shoulder. Castiel flinches, drops his book, and spins.

"Hey," Dean says carefully, "I'm Dean. Your, uh, new roommate."

The guy still says nothing, but he scrambles for something in his desk drawer, then shoves it into Dean's hands. It's about the size of a business card, carefully printed, and it reads:

_Hi, my name is Castiel Novak. I'm sorry; I'm deaf._ _I'm not very good at speaking, but I can both sign ASL and read lips._

Dean looks from the words to Castiel, then back at the words. Back at Castiel, _really_ looking at him for the first time. He's handsome, wide blue eyes and dark hair, a hint of new stubble. He's wearing a snow-white button-down rolled to the elbows. The cleanness of the white washes over Dean. He blinks, rereads the words, and nods. Right. This is new.

But he's starting to think he can deal with this. His roommate is deaf. Deaf and attractive. Great.

"Dean," he says, pointing at himself. Castiel mouths the word.

Dean tries to remember if the housing assignment said anything about this; maybe he just wasn't listening.

He pats his pockets for a pen, pushes Castiel gently aside, and bows down over the desk to write on the backside of the business card.

_Is reading words easier for you than reading lips?_ He holds it up to Castiel, who hesitates, then nods.

"Okay," he says. "Okay. I can get a whiteboard."

Castiel squints, the corners of his mouth tugging downwards. He reaches for a pad of paper on his desk and writes, _I don't want to complicate things for you. Feel free to ignore my presence._ He glances at Dean, smiles with only his eyes, and adds, _At least I'm a quiet roommate. You don't need to worry about me distracting you from your work._

Dean laughs, open-mouthed, and Castiel smiles a little more. Dean reaches across Castiel for the paper and pen, their shoulders brushing. Castiel is warm, unexpectedly so, and for some reason Dean feels heat rise to his cheeks. He squeezes his eyes closed, counts to three, and then writes.

_It's fine, dude. I just need a minute to get used to the idea. I mean, I'm still getting used to the idea of being here at all._

Dean can feel Castiel's eyes on the side of his face. There's something weird about it, the silent staring, and he has the temptation to cover himself with his hands. Instead he straightens up and backs away from the desk.

He looks back over the business card Castiel handed him. The guy must have hundreds of these. He must be tired of explaining over and over again that he can't hear.

"Wait," Dean says. When he realizes that Castiel didn't respond –_ obviously, dumbass, he's deaf – _he steps back into Castiel's line of sight. "Why did you apologize?"

Castiel cocks his head to the side and signs something with his hands. It catches Dean off guard, for a moment. He's seen sign language before, in movies and stuff, but it's different with a native speaker, and it's different here. Like Castiel forgot for a moment that of course Dean doesn't understand.

Dean shakes his head and pushes forward. "You said you were sorry, here. For being deaf. Why did you apologize for that?"

Castiel makes a face of understanding and turns back to the paper to respond. Dean leans over his shoulder to read: _Out of habit, I suppose. Many people don't understand. Or don't want to understand._

Dean looks from the paper to the line of Castiel's profile, warm and hazy in the side of his vision. Castiel has soft curls at the back of his neck. He smells nice, but not sweet, not like cologne. Just nice.

He stays like that, reading and writing over Castiel's shoulder. His duffel remains on his bed, forgotten and unpacked, for hours. In the meantime, Dean learns that Castiel – or Cas, as he begins to write, because it's shorter – is an undeclared major in English literature, the youngest of six siblings, and pretty damn hilarious on paper. It's a little weird, because Dean always assumed deaf people were defined by their deafness. Which was an ignorant idea, he realizes now, formed only because he's never met someone like this before.

Dean is defined by Sam and by his car and by his music and by his father's leather jacket. It makes sense, of course, that Castiel is as equally complex.

He tries to ignore how good-looking Castiel is. He tries.

The next morning, when class registration begins, Dean makes sure to sign up for Introductory American Sign Language. And he buys a whiteboard for the dorm room. It's not a bad start to the college experience.


End file.
